Harry Potter A Trip to the Moon on Gossamer Wings

_A/N: This fic is based on the 1929 Louis Armstrong song, "Muggles". Apparently in the twenties and thirties, "muggle" was a term used to describe marijuana in the throughout the jazz scene. Thus, in this story Harry and Hermione accidentally discover what it's like to have muggles with Muggles, sort of... (Title and lyrics at the bottom are taken from a different song, "Just One of Those Things" by Cole Porter)  
_

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**A Trip to the Moon on Gossamer Wings**

"Harry, _don't worry_." Hermione smoothed the crease of his jacket sleeves. "Dudley is the closest thing you've ever had to a brother, and it's high time you pay him a visit."

Harry couldn't fault Hermione for wanting him to reach out. Her parents had no memory of her existence and still lived in Australia somewhere. Of course she'd want to make sure Harry at least tried to hold onto whatever semblance of a family he'd had before.

"Hermione, honestly, who's to say Dudley's letter wasn't a joke?" He scratched his head hesitantly as they approached the apartment door.

"Then the sneakoscopes would have gone off," Hermione huffed. "I mean, really, Harry, you defeated the Dark Lord. Don't you know a thing about simple household magic?" She pressed the doorbell, smirking lightly.

"Well, Ginny usually—"

"Shush, do you hear that?" Hermione suddenly pressed her ear to the door. "It sounds like some sort of party. That's a bit odd for a weekday; don't you think?"

Harry heard the deep bass thump through the wood frame, but before he could reply the door swung open, and a thickly muscled but rather trim, young man threw out his arms and beamed. "Harry, mate! So glad you could make it!"

Harry's mouth dropped. _Surely it couldn't be_… but as he caught sight of those watery, blue eyes and sandy hair there was no mistaking.

"…_Dudley_?"

* * *

Hermione could hardly believe her ears when Harry said Dudley's name. _Wasn't he supposed to be incredibly – for lack of a better word – rotund?_

"Er – Harry, are you quite sure this is your cousin?" she murmured as they followed Dudley into his abode.

He shrugged with equal astonishment. "I reckon so. I mean, I'm about _fifty _percent sure."

"Well, what happened to the other fifty percent of him?" she whispered urgently.

Harry snickered. "Well… there was this one time when I was ten – I went to the circus with the Dursleys and spotted Dudley in front of one of those funny mirrors." Harry looked deep in thought. "Based solely on the memory of his contorted reflection I think it's safe to say that this may actually be my cousin!"

Hermione stifled a laugh as Dudley turned around. "Right, well, this is my place. I've always got a few friends over – hope you don't mind."

It was at that moment that Hermione caught a whiff of the odor permeating the room. She'd never smelt anything quite like it. The scent reminded her of burning cloves, or roasted leaves, or something of that nature. Then she peered around the room, and it struck her – everyone was smoking or rolling the same funny, little cigarettes.

Harry pulled Hermione a little closer to his side as he addressed his cousin. "So – I see you've lost a bit of weight," he hesitated. Weight no longer seemed to be the most sensitive issue at hand – or at _smell_.

To his surprise Dudley laughed heartily. "Ah, Harry. You never were one to beat around the bush. I guess you could say I went through a few life changes since we parted ways. Had myself a personal trainer, even a therapist – _all time low_," he added with rolled eyes. "How long has it been – two years now?"

Harry nodded warily, turning to Hermione to say something, but at that moment Dudley seemed to notice the witch's presence.

"Oi, you brought a lady friend! _Dudley Dursley_ at your service, my lady." He embraced Hermione as though they were old friends, and Hermione felt mildly uncomfortable, though notedly not as much as she probably ought to have.

"Hermione Granger," she breathed, still trapped in his firm hold. He smelt strongly of burning cloves, and it made her head tingle slightly.

Finally he backed away, looking a bit dazed. "Right, well, make yourself comfortable. There's a few seats left on the settee, and we just picked up a new film that looks brilliant."

Hermione settled down next to Harry and focused on the opening credits of the film. It was bright and flashy – not particularly to her taste – but she wanted Harry to have a good time with his cousin and kept her eyes trained on the screen.

* * *

"Hermione. Hermione. _Hermione!_" Harry waved his hand in front of the witch's face.

She finally blinked placidly and turned his way. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Hermione, something's off. You don't reckon this could be some sort of trap, do you?" Harry's brain felt foggy, though he fought it with every ounce of his strength.

To his surprise Hermione began to giggle in a very _un-Hermione-like _way. "Oh, Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. I _told _you my sneakoscopes would go off!" She giggled again more loudly. "Harry, Harry, Harry."

After several seconds of laughter she turned to the telly, blinking several times. Then she swung back toward Harry, her face knit with mild concern. "Great gargoyles, Harry!"

"What? What is it?" His brain felt progressively more fuzzy.

"What on _earth_ are we watching?" She broke out into another fit of giggles, and Harry stared at the screen in wonder. Now that he focused on it, he had absolutely no recollection of what had happened so far in the film.

"Hang on," Harry puzzled. "How long have we been here?"

Hermione automatically checked her watch and gasped. "Godric's socks! We been here over forty-five minutes!" Suddenly the witch rose to her feet. "Where's Dudley? I've got to find Dudley."

Harry watched Hermione dash toward the kitchen. He knew he probably ought to follow, but something on screen caught his eye, and he simply forgot."

* * *

Hermione bit her lip as she raided the pantry shelves. Normally she wouldn't dream of pillaging a perfect stranger's kitchen, but she felt _so starving_!

After a minute or two a deep voice interrupted her hunt. "Something I can help you with?"

"Oh!" Hermione jumped, proceeding to join Dudley in a chorus of loud laughter. "Forgive me, Dudley; I'm just so hungry."

Dudley quirked an eyebrow and grinned. "Well, you're in the wrong place, Miss Granger. The snacks are on the shelf above the icebox."

He flipped open the cabinet door, and Hermione inhaled with delight. "Peppermint sticks!" she squealed. "Oh, please, may I have some?"

He laughed, handing her the jar. "Have as many as you like."

Hermione grasped the jar ecstatically and made her way to a bar stool, where she began to munch gleefully on the minty deliciousness before her.

A few minutes later Dudley sat beside her, gawping incredulously. "And _that_, my dear, is why you should never say, _Have as many as you like_."

She furrowed her eyes in confusion. "What are you—" Then her eyes fell on the empty jar on the counter. "Holy cricket, I had no idea!" Somehow, in the course of a few minutes she had consumed every last peppermint stick. "Oh, I'm sorry, Dudley," she lamented, unsure if her sadness was at her impolite behavior or rather the lack of more peppermint sticks.

Dudley guffawed loudly, "You know, love, I think I know what's happened here." She waited in rapt silence. "You – and Harry too, I'd wager – have gotten a bit blazed off the fumes."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "That's totally absurd!" she insisted at once, snorting at the prospect, but then she thought about it for several seconds. "Wait – I remember reading about the effects of cannabis in a book I read several years ago—" Several more seconds passed… then it finally dawned on her. "—Golly Gumdrops, I might be second-hand stoned!"

Dudley doubled over with laughter. Then he sighed, "Come on. I think we both need a breather. I'll open a window in my room, so your head can clear a bit."

Hermione followed Dudley without a second thought. Of course going in his room was the most logical option – if there was a window.

They entered his room, which was surprisingly tidy, and Hermione sat on the foot of the bed as Dudley wrested open a tiny window.

"There we go." He sat beside Hermione and stared at her curiously for several seconds. "So – you and Harry, huh?"

"What?" Hermione blanched. "Godric, no! We're just friends."

Dudley nodded for a long time. "Yeah, that's what I thought. So – _Harry's gay then?_"

For some reason this struck Hermione as utterly hilarious, and she fell back on the bed with tears of amusement. Picturing Harry snogging Ron – or even… _Draco_ – sent her into a fit of giggles that couldn't be tamed. Soon Dudley joined in, and they kept at it for several minutes – hooting and snickering for absolutely no reason.

When they finally calmed down Hermione sighed softly. "Look, you can see the moon through your window."

They stared at it for several minutes, saying nothing. Hermione curled into Dudley's side as a light breeze rolled in the window, but he was too spellbound by the majesty of the night sky to notice. Her mind felt so free, and for a moment, it truly felt like she was floating to the moon – with Dudley Dursley of all people!

She suddenly recalled the story of Harry blowing up Dudley's Aunt Marge, and she chuckled, imagining the ballooning ogre of a woman Harry had described, bubbling upward into the stratosphere.

Gradually Hermione's eyes grew heavier, and the air grew frigid with the breeze, so she snuggled more closely into Dudley's side. He felt so warm. So warm. _So warm..._

* * *

Harry awoke the next morning to the smell of sweat and _trees?_ His glasses had fallen on his lap, but as he leaned forward to grab them he found that his head was stuck in something warm and _sticky_. Finally he managed to reach the frames, slipping them on with great effort.

Then he looked around, taking careful measure of his surroundings. _So he was still at Dudley's flat._ With his peripheral vision he glanced beside him on the plush cushions, realizing there were several people piled next to him, and then... it struck him in one horrifying moment – Harry was wedged in between the edge of the settee _and someone's gigantic armpit._

Extricating himself as quickly as possible from the couch and the Dudley's _moist_ acquaintance, he stumbled away from the crowd.

_Where was Hermione?_

He peered into the heap of sleeping people, highly doubting that Hermione would have allowed herself to slumber in such an unhygienic setting – so he moved on to the kitchen and then to the loo, where someone had unsurprisingly taken residence in the bathtub. Lastly he reached the entrance to the bedroom, well aware that he had yet to spot either Hermione _or _Dudley.

Taking a deep breath and gulping, Harry turned the knob, preparing for the worst.

* * *

Hermione felt warmer than usual. It was typical of Ron to steal the blankets throughout the night, so it didn't make sense for her to be so snugly wrapped in quilts – and was Ron's arm still wrapped around her waist? That was most peculiar.

Suddenly she heard the door swing open, and Hermione shot up, ready for attack.

"Whoa!" Harry froze midstride, shocked at Hermione's staticky hair, standing on end as though she'd been electrocuted. "Hermione, wha—"

"Harry James Potter! What in Godric's name are you doing in my bedroom? I demand an explanation at once!"

Harry's mouth fell open, looking utterly bewildered. "Er – Hermione, this isn't your house."

At that moment Dudley popped out from under the sheet, grinning sheepishly. "Morning."

Hermione's scream echoed through every corner of the house, and she and Harry shuffled hastily out of Dudley's apartment.

She had just summoned the Knight Bus when Dudley dashed out the front door after them. "We should meet up again sometime – have a proper chat." He seemed to be speaking to Harry, but his eyes were on Hermione's.

She bit her lip with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Perhaps – someday." The hint of a grin escaped her lips as they waved goodbye to Harry's cousin. She doubted she'd see Dudley for a long time, but reuniting Harry with his family, if only just this once, had been worth it.

* * *

Harry turned to Hermione several minutes later as he attempted to siphon the armpit sweat from the side of his scalp with his wand. "Er, Hermione? Perhaps next time you ought to bring a _few_ _more_ sneakoscopes."

_End._

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xxx  
_So goodbye, dear, and amen_  
_Here's hoping we meet now and then_  
_It was great fun_  
_But it was just one of those things_  
xxx

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A/N Disclaimer: In case you couldn't tell, Drugs are bad. Hermione and Harry were clearly at a disadvantage in terms of mental acuity and decision making ability from just a second hand high (Don't ask how I know this…) , and there are much better, more positive and productive ways to deal with stress, trauma, and/or other problems. Just say no! Thanks for reading! -V

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Written For The Quidditch League FanFiction Competition/ Ballycastle Bats/ Chaser 1  
Prompts: Bed; Therapy, all time low; Weekday  
Genre: Humor  
Characters: Hermione, Harry, Dudley  
Word Count: 2,108


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Harry Potter, Friendship, Humor